


New Perspective

by Sky_kiss



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Couch Sex, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_kiss/pseuds/Sky_kiss
Summary: It'd been a long week at work. Just because it was finally Saturday didn't mean Sadayo could slack off. Just because her boyfriend had showed up at her apartment with curry didn't mean she could neglect that stack of essays. She should have been a responsible adult and sent him home but. He'd smiled and dropped to his knees and...well, she hadn't bothered to argue.





	New Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> My one woman quest continues and oops my hand slipped, smut happened.

There were some days when Sadayo  forgot the years between them. 

She’d tell herself Akira was mature. He had more yen than he knew what to do with (and she’d stopped asking where it’d come from or why, exactly, he kept it in a tin beneath his shoddy little bed); his naturally agile mind made him an excellent conversationalist. 

And...hell, he was kind. He was blessedly stable. The kid kept his calm even when she was on the verge of spiralling. Somewhere along the line she’d come to rely on him. It was stupid, sure, but...such was the way with the love. It was just nice not to feel alone anymore. 

He’d have dinner waiting when she came to visit. He’d ask after her day (even if he already knew); on rare occasions, he’d let her lean against his chest, watching something mindless on television while she graded her papers. It was all ridiculously domestic, painfully normal, and everything she’d never let herself hope to have. Not exactly what you’d expect from an ex-maid and a phantom thief. 

It was adult, was what she was trying to get at, in her  roundabout way. Most of the time, he was an adult. 

And then, some days, he’d go out of his way to remind her just how young he actually was. 

It’d been a long day, hell, a long week, and god, if she hadn’t felt it. The all nighters and early morning’s hadn’t been a problem back in her late teens and mid twenties but she felt them now. Her class had a bevy of tests coming. It meant more kids in her office. She loved her job; she loved her children. Sometimes the complaints were a bit much. They’d had more than a month to prepare and it wasn’t like the exam had just manifest from out of the void. It didn’t stop the tales of woe from flooding in. 

By the end of it, she’d been drained and nursing a fairly major headache. Sadayo pressed a finger to her temple, wincing against the pressure. She still had essays to grade, next quarters curriculum to finalize, and a project the board had decided she was most fit to supervise. Akira had tipped his head to the side, quizzical, watching her carefully. He’d raised a brow. 

Was she alright? It said. She’d waved him off.  She’d hoped that was the end of it.

She should have known he wouldn’t let it drop. The kid was obsessive about some things and his loved ones well beings sat right at the top of that vaunted mental list. He’d texted her (at school, in class, of all the bone headed things he could do). Could he do anything? Could he help?

He could study, she’d replied. Then she’d put her phone in her desk for good measure, making sure the drawer clicked shut loudly enough for him to hear. It’d earned her a petulant frown. It helped her headache. 

An adult would have moved on. 

A child would have dwelled, agonized in his imagined guilt. 

Akira was some...nebulous creature, stuck squarely in the middle. She wouldn’t say he pouted; he was too stoic for that. He managed whatever the stern equivalent was. Brooding, maybe, though that sounded a touch too severe. He got obstinate and difficult to manage. He’d stayed out of her way until school ended and a few hours after that. 

Then there’d been a knock at her door. 

Kawakami was not a stupid woman. Naive, maybe, and...foolishly romantic, but not stupid. She’d known who was at her door on an instinctual level rather than a rational one. 

It was her idiot boyfriend, young and unrepentant and holding a bag of takeout in front of him like some deranged peace offering. She’d been too horrified to ask what was happening,  fisting a hand in the front of his shirt, dragging him inside. If there was a patron deity of overworked high school teachers, she prayed no one had seen him. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The words left her in a rush. Akira pushed the food forward again, “You looked stressed today. You don’t…” he frowned, looking for the words, “You don’t eat when you’re stressed. So I…” he gave the bag a little shake, the plastic rustling. Whatever was inside smelt heavenly, homemade too. She pressed her palm to her forehead, well aware how dangerously close she was to whining. 

“What if someone had seen you?” 

“If people noticed gangly teens wandering around where they shouldn’t be, the Phantom Thieves would have never made it off the ground.” 

He had a point.

“I’ll leave,” he started, sounding mature again. Earlier on in their relationship it would have fooled her. Now she knew to watch his eyes. There was a dark note of amusement there, just a spark, so ready to ignite. He set the food on her dinner table, “I just wanted to make sure you’d have something. Sojiro’s curry is second to none.”

He turned to leave and she’d stopped him because she was stupid. Love made you stupid, kids, and boy had she forgotten that. Sadayo stared up at the ceiling, reaching out, touch curling around his wrist. He had elegant hands, the fingers slender to the point of being delicate. She loved how they felt twined with her own.  Her cheeks burned. She was an adult. An adult would have set him straight, sent him home. 

But she’d missed him. It’d been a long day and he was handsome and willing…

She shrugged, refusing to look at him, “As long as you’re here. You could...at least stay for dinner.”  
_____

Dinner had turned into staying for the evening. 

For the most part, he’d left her to her own devices. Akira prowled the length of her little apartment like like some great, languorous cat, the leanness of youth still clinging to him. It was fascinating, really. At a push, she’d have called him beautiful before handsome.  

Sadayo frowned, hugging her knees to her chest. More and more often lately she couldn’t shake the impression he’d been putting on a front for the world. He’d showed up at the school, quiet, demure, wearing glasses he didn’t need and an air of penitence he didn’t really feel. Alone, he let the mask slide away a little. He could be passionate when he wanted (and frequently was). He was flashy, dramatic. 

He was different with her. That felt special, safe. 

Akira nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with his investigation, and returned to the couch, seating himself beside her. He had the decency to move her stack of papers first, glancing over the names before shaking his head. “You’re more patient than I am.” 

“You got it in one, rookie.” 

He huffed, flicked on the television. Turned it off. 

That image of a cat flicked through her mind again. He was a ball of energy, all coiled up and desperate for release. It’d been almost a month since she’d heard anything new regarding the Phantom Thieves. They were laying low, living average lives, safe lives. That lack of movement didn’t suit him. She snickered, half turning, fetching her knees against his thigh. Sadayo reached out, brushing a few strands of his wild hair away from his forehead. They fell obstinately back into place, “You’re tense.” 

He didn’t look at her. One of his hands moved to her knee, those delicate fingers stroking absent lines up and down the length of thigh. Never too high; he had some intrinsic awareness of her boundaries. She’d never have figured him as the tactile sort but he was. He squeezed, the heat of his hand somehow distinct from the September air, “Work is stressful.” He didn’t like to refer to his shadier exploits directly, “Feels like the calm before a storm.” 

“You can talk to me, you know.” 

Akira smiled, “I know.” He indicated her paperwork with a tilt of his head, “You’ve got enough on your plate.” 

She snorted, giving a quick yank on his hair before settling back to work, “That’s not how this works. We support each other. We...vent about things. You know, have each other’s backs.” 

“Do you need to vent?” 

She fought the urge to swat him, “You’re a child.”  

The young man didn’t respond. His lips pursed to a thin line, brow furrowing. He squeezed her knee again and she suffered an embarrassingly pang of attraction. He was artfully mussed, “I...think it would be good. If I burned some energy.” 

“Yeah?” She was too old to blush; it never stopped her. Sadayo cleared her throat, looking down, “If you just...let me finish up here. I could help with that.” 

Akira’s lips curled up, smug, self satisfied, “Who said you had to stop? You grade and I’ll…” he eased off the couch, pushing her coffee table away enough to kneel in front of her. She felt her eyes widen, staring, as he set his hands on her knees again, “Entertain myself.” 

“That doesn’t seem very…” she frowned, focusing on keeping her voice steady, “It’s not exactly responsible.” 

“See, I think you just need a new angle. You’ll be very responsible. Grading away. I’ll be very responsible,” he pushed on her leg, almost gentle, barely any force at all, and she was turning towards him. He pressed his lips to her inner thigh, the words burning, “Making sure you’re refreshed and ready for class.” 

“When you put it like that…” 

His laugh hung on the air, the low sound coiling somewhere deep inside her. Sadayo blinked, lifting her hips just enough for him ease her out of her pajamas. The cheap material of the couch itched against her skin, a striking counterpoint to the smoothness of his hands. 

He passed her an essay before leaning forward, dragging his teeth along the flat planes of her stomach, “Don’t mind me, Kawakami. I’ll keep myself busy.” 

He’d gotten better at the physical half of their relationship, repetition and an agile mind making him a quick study. She tried to focus on the essay, willing those memories away. His fumbled touch, his apologies after he’d come well before she’d been close. His promises to make it better, to satisfy her, to learn if she’d be willing to teach him...

He’d kept his word. And if that fucking boundless energy and that constant sexual...desperation, didn’t drive his age home again, she wasn’t sure what would. 

“Sadayo,” teeth again, scraping lower. It tickled, barely enough for her to feel him as he hovered just above her skin. “Relax.” 

She nodded, surrendering the play of her body. It was easier with him than she liked. 

She was working, that’s right. She had papers to grade. She focused on that, on the scrape of cheap fabric, and not the nimble hand smoothing up her thighs, curling over her hips, adjusting her so she sat just right. The author was attempting to document the perceived injustices in the Japanese legal system; the argument wasn’t half bad, just a little heavy…

Sadayo jerked, biting down on her lower lip to keep from gasping. The first press of his tongue was always the most shocking, liquid heat crashing over her awareness.  He’d learned what she’d liked, added a touch of his trademark flair, sure strokes over her clit enough to make her vision swim. Akira sighed, his hold on her tightening. He wanted to fuck her properly; she was all too happy to oblige. 

Fingers teased between her legs, circling her entrance, allowing one to dip inside her. She clenched around him on instinct, aware of how aching empty she felt. He sucked at her, hard enough to be just this side of painful, and her body responded, hips rocking forward, clutching around his touch. He liked getting her wet almost as much as he liked making her come. It gave him a feeling of power, control, finesse.

She was going to stop this and get back to work…

Sadayo was the adult.  

She must have breathed the declaration, her free hand skittering out on the couch, sending a stack of essays fluttering prettily to the floor. She could hear the crunch of paper, distant over the thundering blood in her ears. Akira’s hands curled over her knees, pushing her thighs further apart, his fine, elegant nose tweaking against her clit as he lapped at her. 

He hummed in response, the breathy exclamation sharp against her overheated skin. He didn’t believe her. Of course he didn’t. Akira was insufferable and cocky and smug when he had her like this, laid out and writhing under his tongue. In one of her better moods she’d allowed him to share her glass of wine and the confessions had come tumbling out.

He loved eating her, loved the taste of her skin, loved how beautiful she looked in the afterglow, loved the way she couldn’t control herself, how she was wanton and free and hungry. The way she clutched him to her, her nails in his hair, taking everything she wanted…

Sadayo whined, turning her face into the couch cushion. Most of all, he loved it when she looked down her body, when their eyes met with his head between her legs, his dark hair tousled. He never looked half as young in those moments. Akira was something ageless, dark. To borrow his own phrase: hungry. 

His groan hung on the air, one of his hand finding her own, threading their fingers together.  She shook her head, digging her heel against his back, “Changed my mind.” 

“Mmm?” she bit down on her lip hard enough to hurt, the muscles in her legs pulling tight as she jerked, light dancing over her vision. His tongue flicked over her entrance before pushing inside, filling her with heat. Stroking and tasting…

It was hard to think, let alone get the words out, “Don’t…” he ducked his chin, canted her hips higher, sunk into her. She groaned, slapping her free hand down on the couch cushion, the coiled pleasure in her core licking outwards, down her legs, through her, “Work can wait. Work can wait.” 

A low sound caught in his throat, rumbling, chasing up the length of her spine. She considered pushing him away, taking him on the floor. That could come later; tomorrow was a Sunday. He’d have the energy for it and she’d have time to make up for another late night. Sadayo let her legs fall open, her free hand curving around the back of his neck. He chuckled at the first press of her nails, her cries sharper. Someone would hear them. The walls weren’t perfectly soundproof. 

The thought made her smile. Hell, they might be happy for her. Kawakami, still reasonably young and pretty, finally getting fucked. Akira sucked at her, licking a long line back to her clit. Sadayo let go of her control, her reservations, the pleasure growing more insistent. The mirror across the room showcased it all for her. She watched them move together, his head between her legs, hips bucking against his face with frantic energy. 

She managed a choked sound, her orgasm hitting her with a sharp suddenness. There was no air in her lungs; her mind was blank. All she could focus on was the feel on him, kisses to her thighs, his tongue back at her core, licking her clean, drinking her. She was boneless, groaning at the little aftershocks of pleasure, her lover easing back, resting his head against her knee. 

She pressed her hand to her forehead, staring up at the ceiling, willing her thoughts to return. Akira saved her from speaking first, his lips swollen, slick with her arousal, “That. Felt like a step in the right direction.” 

“Mmm, just a step.” She stroked her fingers through his hair, easing out the tangles. It was a simple touch, enough to leave him glassy eyed, instinctively pressing against her fingers. He nearly purred. “Just do me a favor. Move round two to the bedroom.” 

“You look so nice on the couch.” 

“And if I end up with rugburn on my ass you’ll be singing a different tune.” He chuckled, kissing her a final time, glancing over at the clock. It was getting late. If he wanted to catch a train home, he’d have to leave in the next half hour. Even that would be pushing it. Sadayo bracketed her legs around him. She squeezed just enough for him to move to her, pushing up on his knees. She scraped his teeth over his chin, “You could...stay. Just for tonight. If you wanted.” 

“Sadayo. What an irresponsible suggestion.” 

He wasn’t moving. She twined her arms around his neck, her head still swimming with endorphins, and kissed him, “It’s what I get for slumming it with some delinquent.” 

His dark eyes flashed with challenge, standing, giving a tug on her hand. He was already hard, ready for her. If they made it to the bedroom, she’d consider it an act of god. 

The essays would keep until tomorrow. Maybe she’d do her work in bed the next morning, use his back  as her desk. It’d be his penance for distracting her. And maybe it wasn’t responsible or adult…

But hell, sometimes having fun, being loved and loving, meant a lot more than grading papers.


End file.
